


Full of Love I Can't Control

by pitypartyof1



Series: 1990’s Seattle, WA [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 1990s, 1990s Seattle AU, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Awkwardness, Bartenders, Blow Jobs, Calum is a hopeless romantic, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Drinking, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Grand Gestures, Gratuitous Swearing, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Soulmates, Time Skips, bottom!Ashton, soul lights, top!Calum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21675691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: In which Ashton and Calum tend bar at The Ballard Firehouse in Seattle, WA in 1993. Ashton wants to play drums and find his soulmate. Calum just wants to make it big and find a way for Ashton to love him without the lights.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin
Series: 1990’s Seattle, WA [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562476
Comments: 17
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***There is now a playlist, full of fantastic 90's grunge, located here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0339sLJKto1rVxFHs1SvUt?si=abGs3dBiRM2jC2iHrfhwGQ
> 
> Hi there! 
> 
> This is a part of the 1990s Seattle AU, but can be read separately.  
> Again, the concept is based on the video for Waterparks' "Lucky People".  
> I've really enjoyed working in this universe and can't wait to continue with this.

Calum loves Sundays most of all. Sundays are slow, only a few patrons here and there during the day, and Sunday nights are when the smaller local bands get to play shows – sometimes him and Ash. His most favorite thing about Sundays is that they work together, an entire day almost uninterrupted just talking and joking. On Sundays, he can almost believe that it could happen, the two of them. If not for Ashton’s stupid hang-up. 

Wetting a scrap rag, he scrubs tiredly at a sticky little stain that just won’t seem to come up off the bar top. Despite the fact that it’s a Sunday, it just doesn’t feel like a good day. Ashton’s running late, hasn’t made it in yet, and Calum’s just plain exhausted already. It’s only three.

Predictably, the first customer to tumble in is a regular. He says tumble because the guy’s always last to leave at night and first to arrive the next day. Privately, Calum thinks the guy must have money, because he can’t have time to work and Calum doubts he even could. The guy’s perpetually drunk. Still he’s got the Pabst on the counter before the guy even gets his coat off, waiting patiently for the two bucks he’s owed. Guy never tips except for what he’s got left in his pocket when it’s time to go home. Calum frowns and thinks about how Ashton always threatens to spit in his PBR one of these days. 

“Just us and Blue Ribbon, huh?’

The voice startles Calum as the regular seated in front of him sips his beer and raises a perfunctory middle finger.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ashton sneers slightly, tucking his gloves into his beanie and stowing them beneath the counter, “fuck you too, Gary.”

Eyes rolling hard, Calum swivels. “Nice of you to finally show up,” he comments archly, expression as unimpressed as he can manage to make it.

Holding his hands up placatingly, Ashton turns, pushes his curls up and jerks a thumb at the back of his neck where a clear piece of plastic is taped in place over a large splash of dark ink. Calum gapes. It’s a blackwork bird of some sort and aside from the fact that it’s on Ashton’s body, it shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He swallows hard. “What is it?”

Ashton spins, brilliant smile firmly in place, correctly assuming he’s been forgiven. “Killer, right?” he gushes enthusiastically. “It’s a Condor.”

“Why have you put a fucking Condor on the back of your neck, idiot?” It’s hard to pretend he’s only mildly interested, but Calum thinks he does a passable job. Though, truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he bothers. It’s not as if Ashton doesn’t know. They’re both well aware that he does, especially considering how often they get each other off. Calum’s in fucking _love_ with him and for Ash, it’s just convenient. Somehow, they’ve settled on this cycle where they both pretend Calum’s pathetic pining isn’t an ongoing _thing_.

“You’re such an asshole when you’ve missed me,” Ashton teases, smirking as he reclines back against the coolers and makes a kissy face. “It’s adorable. Just lets me know how much ya love me, sweets.”

And, okay, apparently today is one of the days where they pretend a little less. Where Calum tolerates these sly, nettling comments only to go home feeling like shit and just as in enamored as ever. Fuck the fucking soulmate lights and double fuck Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

Chucking the rag unceremoniously into the sink, he stomps his way to the back room without another word. Restocking will give him some time to get his head straight and soothe the flare of hurt in his chest. _I was right_ , he thinks sardonically, _this Sunday is going to be a shit fest_. Box by box, he finds what he needs, carrying the first load of various beers and bottles back out front.

Restocking is mindless work. Pushing the newer items to the back and bringing the older ones forward. Rotating. Movements made of instinct that require no real attention from him. So it goes. It’s largely silent work and Calum’s in back deciding what to bring out for his third trip when he hears the door snick shut quietly. “Tell me you didn’t leave that asshole out there by himself,” he growls in acknowledgement.

“He’ll be okay for a minute,” Ashton murmurs, sounding slightly more subdued.

Scoffing, Calum continues unstacking boxes, refusing point blank to give Ashton the courtesy of eye contact. “Not fuckin’ him I’m worried about. He’s probably behind the bar helpin’ himself to his own fuckin’ refill now. We’ll be the one’s on our asses if we get caught lettin’ that happen.”

A sigh echoes over his shoulder as he stacks sixers in his arms to bring out. Calum just knows Ashton’s rolling his eyes.

“Who cares? It’s two bucks. You know Gary.”

“Tch.” Arms full, Calum stands and shoulders past Ashton through the door. If he could just find a way to hate Ashton as much as he wishes he could, maybe he’d be okay.

Behind him, the blonde catches the door and follows. It’s just classic Ashton. Even with clear knowledge that Calum’s pissed, he can’t just let him be. It should be obvious why he’s mad, should be obvious that he needs space. Yet, here’s Ashton, pressing in, following him to the back room, hovering behind him now. Calum knows he’s probably biting his lip with his arms crossed nervously over his chest.

Scowling as he continues to work, he ignores the eyes he can feel on him. He’s not going to be the one to break the silence, not going to be the one to reach out. One of the reasons he loves Ashton so much is his big heart, he can’t even make it twenty minutes knowing he’s upset Calum. So then… Why does he do it? That’s what makes it hurt the worst.

*

Relief comes at six pm sharp. A lingering depression and tightness in his chest have him feeling grateful he and Ash aren’t playing tonight. It makes it much easier to shrug off the other’s tentative hand and push out the door with a low grunt.

Work ended much as it started. Calum’s upset with himself, upset with Ashton and furious that soul lights even exist. He’d had to hide in the back when a pair of small boys, one blonde, one with brightly colored hair, had pressed inside towards the end of his shift tangled together with their lights glowing mockingly. Hands shaking, he’d stood in the cooler, fighting back a breakdown. That’s what Ashton wants - lights. Not him. Not Calum.

The door of his apartment presses in a good inch as he wrestles with the deadbolt. Stupid shitty door, stupid shitty apartment. Growling forcefully at it, he finally wrangles his way inside and sluffs layers, boots by the door and coat flung over the stained sofa. On the kitchen counter, his answering machine blinks forlornly and he presses play on his way to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

His mother’s voice rings through the small space, scratchy on the recording, and guilt twists in Calum’s gut. It’s been a long while since he’s called, about as long since he’s answered when he sees the number flashing on the cordless handset. As much as he hates the sound of the incessant ringing, it’s preferable to the sound of disappointment in his mother’s lilting voice.

As if summoned by thought alone, the ringing blares through the room causing him to start as he straightens, beer in hand. The number displayed isn’t his family’s, however, it’s Ashton’s. Calum ignores it with a burning sensation in his eyes and a soft sniff.

It rings again.

And again.

And _again,_ until Calum snatches up the receiver, aggressive hurt flaring in his veins. “What?” he growls.

Ashton’s small sigh echoes over the line. “I’m sorry, alright? Let me over and we can watch movies. I’ll get McD’s on the way?”

It’s an olive branch, extended hopefully and Calum’s fresh out of the strength that would be required to combat the want and hope that ignite inside him at the offer. Maybe a stronger man would be able to hold out for the sake of their sanity, but he can’t. This day, this whole, awful day, has reminded him of just how broken and weak he is.

“Yeah, why not,” he chokes out despondently and wonders if Ashton can translate it into the pain it is.

Left to his own devices and anticipating Ashton’s arrival, he shuffles around. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he most definitely does. Of course he doesn’t want the fucking love of his goddamn life to see his apartment a complete mess, it’s just… hard to find the motivation to do anything about it. The depression is still raging strong and it’s hard to do more than prod the full trash bag with a toe and stare around at dirty dishes, scattered papers, and errant laundry.

Slow moving, he gears himself up to take on the things he can. He walks the trash to the chute, gathers laundry into the hamper. Dishes will have to wait. Papers are stacked into a quick pile and shoved inside the front cover of his tattered writing notebook. It’s- it’s good enough. Ashton’s not some kind of neat freak, he won’t judge Calum too much for the dirty dishes in his sink and floors in need of a good mop.

In the end, he only waits about 15 minutes before there’s a knock shaking his battered door in its frame. He’s already chugged his beer and opened a second. “Open,” he calls over his shoulder, ears pricked for the squeak of hinges. It comes almost immediately as Ashton pushes inside, all noise and brightness.

“You’re gonna get fucking killed if you leave you door unlocked,” he nags by way of hello.

 _I know_ , Calum thinks sullenly. In front of him, a greasy bottomed bag of McDonald’s fast food thunks onto the haggard coffee table. Offering a nod of hello, he gestures with his bottle towards the kitchen. “Beer’s in the fridge.”

Ashton’s footsteps retreat and the sounds of bottles clinking filter back to him.

“This stuff’s shit,” the blonde complains, dropping onto the couch so that Calum jostles slightly.

Peripherally, Calum watches him take a sip and wrinkle his nose. It rankles him. “If you came here to complain and insult me, you can go home. And I’m keeping the food, jackass.” This isn’t a good start. He’s already exhausted. The last thing he wants to do is sit around being made to feel progressively worse.

Ashton sighs softly, rubbing at the side of nose, beer bottle dangling between two fingers. “I didn’t mean it that way. Man, I feel like everything I say today is just making things worse.” Sitting back, he nudges the side of Calum’s foot with his own, gaze on the ceiling to match Calum’s own. “I was just trying to tease you earlier. And – I mean this isn’t my favorite beer, I won’t lie, but I wasn’t trying to, like, make you feel shitty.”

Calum grunts. “I don’t know why you wanna tease me about that shit. You know. You _know_ ,” he shudders, looking down and away. “We’ve had this conversation a million times. A million fucking times you’ve told me you don’t want me. I know I’m just your fuck buddy, man. If that’s all I got I’ll take it, but not if you’re gonna make fun of me for it.”

The McDonald’s bag rustles loudly in the quiet as something inside shifts. It forces Ashton to pull his head from the cloud of dread fogging it. “It wasn’t meant that way, I swear. It was just – like I’d say to anyone! I wasn’t talking about that. I just – ” Frustrated hands clasp behind his neck as he hunches down, swearing and trying to find the words. “I know it’s fucked up for you. If you wanna stop, I get it. I just can’t give up on my soulmate, Cal. Someday, I’m gonna find the person who completes me, and you’ll find your person too.”

 _I already have,_ Calum thinks, staring straight ahead.

Ashton caves first, always does, has always been the emotional one. Arms wind around Calum’s waist pulling him tight into the blonde’s side as Ashton’s nose brushes into the juncture of Calum’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry. You know I love you, Cal. I don’t want you to hurt, I just can’t give up on finding my lights and I won’t pretend.”

A single tear winds down Calum’s cheek, the wet trail warm as he sniffles valiantly. He’s not going to cry over this in front of Ashton again. It can wait until he’s left and Calum’s alone again. “I don’t want to stop.” It’s barely a whisper when he finally manages to get it out, but he means it.

Does whatever this is shred his heart in the most callous way? Yes, but it’s what Ashton’s willing to give, and Calum’s so desperate he’s willing to claw his way to keep it. Tongue swiping out over dry lips, he swallows harshly. “I just don’t understand why you won’t even try. Soulmates are so rare! Why is it so wrong to find love with someone else? How long can you wait, I mean do you want to die alone?”

“I know they’re rare.” Ashton’s words are thick, rumbling heavy in his chest, like boulders tumbling out to crush. “I just have to keep believing I’m going to find mine. I want the person that was made for me.”

Calum can’t understand how he wasn’t, and it doesn’t skip his notice that part of his question goes unanswered. There’s no point pursuing this further though. It’s the same argument it was a year and a half ago. Instead, he cuddles further into Ashton’s side, taking deep breaths until he’s calmed down enough to sit up and switch on the television. “What’d you get?” he deflects, pulling the fast food bag closer and peering into the depths.

They eat, they watch shitty MTV, and they drink beer. Eventually, they fall asleep, legs tangling together as they snore drunkenly on Calum’s lumpy, battered couch. The cycle continuing as always.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squinting up, Calum grudgingly opens his mouth, tongue poking out to lick over his friend’s clothed crotch. Morning sex is his favorite kind of sex, especially when it’s slow and easy, maybe just a little messy and tired. Ashton fucking knows it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a playlist, full of awesome 90's grunge, located here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0339sLJKto1rVxFHs1SvUt?si=abGs3dBiRM2jC2iHrfhwGQ
> 
> Here's something a little happier to balance out the super sad thing I also posted.  
> Yikes, yikes, yikes.

Calum wakes to a sharp poke against his cheek. Blinking slowly, bleary eyes register his living room, the still playing TV and the warm body beneath him. A breathy sigh echoes and Calum registers another poke to his cheek. Color floods his face quickly, realizing Ashton’s morning wood is being rocked against him as the older man sleeps.

“Ungh,” Ashton whines softly, thick fingers tangling into Calum’s dark hair and tugging. “Fuck, are you awake now?”

Shivering a bit at the sting in his scalp, Calum huffs. Apparently not asleep then. _That’s one way to say good morning_ , he thinks sardonically. Despite the rude awakening, he can’t help feeling a stirring between his legs as his own cock takes notice of the situation. “Yeah, ‘m up. You keep shoving your cock in my face.”

“Sorry,” Ashton groans, not sorry at all and, in fact, rolling his hips up once again. Only this time, he uses his grip in the younger man’s curls to angle his head until his clothed bulge rubs over Calum’s lips. “Woke up and you were making these little sounds-“ Ashton breaks for a soft whine to escape him. “Really want your mouth, Cal, please? I’ll do you after.”

Squinting up, Calum grudgingly opens his mouth, tongue poking out to lick over his friend’s clothed crotch. Morning sex is his favorite kind of sex, especially when it’s slow and easy, maybe just a little messy and tired. Ashton fucking knows it too. The cotton of Ashton’s sweats rubs lewdly over his lips with a twitch of his cock and Calum hums. “You’re commando, aren’t you, asshole?” he laughs. “Can already taste you leaking through these.” Plucking at the waistband and allowing it to snap back against Ashton’s toned stomach, Calum smirks.

The blonde’s face flushes with Calum’s teasing. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he groans, lower lip held tightly between teeth. There’s really no need for him to answer his friend’s taunting question, both well aware that he’s not wearing underwear. “Please,” he gasps softly.

Eyes flashing, Calum’s grin sharpens. Ashton begs so pretty, it’s Calum’s favorite way to have him. A breathiness invades the older drummer’s voice, a hint of petulance if Calum doesn’t move quickly enough. “Hmm,” his tongue teases over his plush lips, Ashton’s eyes following the movement, “since you asked so nicely, I suppose.”

Easing the fabric down, a small huff of laughter escapes him as Ashton’s hips hitch upwards, more than eager to aid in the migration southward. Being gentle with Ashton is one of Calum’s favorite things and despite the drummer’s noises of complaint, he’s slow to guide the sweats from Ashton’s legs, dropping them over the side of the couch before settling back between Ashton’s legs. Eyeing his prize, he blinks up at the older man, waiting patiently for Ashton’s sweet pleas.

Never one to disappoint, Ashton’s fingers curl back through dark locks and he whimpers. “ _Please_ , Cal. Was waiting forever for you to wake up, thinkin’ ‘bout your mouth. _Need it_.” They’ve been doing this long enough by now that he knows better than to move, knows being impatient will only result in Calum leaving him like this. Whatever they might be outside, when they fuck, Calum’s the one in charge, and he can be a bit intense and a lot dominating.

Wherever Ashton’s concerned, Calum’s always been greedy. Sitting back of his heels, fingers roughened by years of playing the bass curl around Ashton’s thick shaft, tugging gently. It’s dry, the slide full of friction he knows Ashton’s not overly fond of. His drummer has always liked it wet, bordering on sloppy even. A hiss echoes and Calum’s smirk widens. _Such a good boy_ , he thinks, _make noise for me, that’s it_.

Plush lips press against the damp head of Ashton’s cock in a sweet kiss. It’s almost a habit by now, but Calum loves to start his blowjobs with a kiss, smearing any fluids over his own lips, eagerly licking them off for Ashton to see before beginning in earnest.

Calum sucks cock like every time is the last time because, with Ashton, it might be. Whatever they have, it isn’t one sided, he knows better than to believe that. Even so, he never knows if Ashton might wake up and decide to stop this thing they do, or if he might find his soulmate on the way to get his coffee at the market. So, he treats every opportunity like he may never have it again, edging Ashton almost unbearably before diving in with gusto, taking him into his throat and swallowing, encouraging the blonde to fuck his mouth.

“C – Ah!” Ashton moans, wanton and filthy, thrust rough and deep. “I’m gonna –”

It’s the only warning Calum gets before warm seed spills down his throat, nearly choking him as he works to keep up with the flow and swallow all Ashton can give him. The older man holds him there for several long seconds, thick thighs tense and shivering against him as he rides out the high of his orgasm. When he does pull back, Calum’s diligent in cleaning, gentle swipes of tongue over Ashton’s sensitive flesh until all he tastes is the drummer’s skin.

Forehead resting against Ashton’s hip, he palms himself. Panting, he shudders at the touch, desperate to chase his own release now that he’s pleased his… His _soulmate_. Even if the universe has somehow gotten things fucked up, Calum knows deep down that Ashton was meant for him, couldn’t possibly be anything other than his soulmate. He’s never stupid enough to say that aloud though. The pity on Ashton’s face… Calum wouldn’t survive that.

A lethargic palm slaps Calum’s own away and Ashton’s hazy eyes blink slowly, lips curving up. “I said I’d get you after. Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs, the words tumbling slow like molasses.

Calum frowns. Whatever they do, he always tries his best to avoid allowing himself to be too vulnerable with Ashton. He’s always loved rimming him, taking the older man apart piece by piece. Picturing their rolls reversed, Ashton behind him, face buried in his ass – it sounds like every type of vulnerable he’s been trying to avoid. The only thing that’d be worse would be allowing Ashton to take him. Calum’s a top through and through, if he allowed Ashton to fuck him, there’d be no going back from that level of trust and intimacy. 

Bottom lip pushed forward, Ashton levels him with his best pout. “Come on, please? You do it for me all the time and I wanna show you how good it feels. Don’t make me beg, Cally, please?”

With his fluffy curls and flushed skin, they both know Calum will give in. “Kiss me first,” he demands, gaze cutting away as he swallows harshly. As much as he hates to admit it, as much as it scares him, he’s looking forward to it. If Ashton’s usual wails and swears are anything to go by, he expects it feels quite good.

Ashton’s face breaks into a wide grin with his victory, giggling as he worms himself forward into the younger man’s space and pressing up into a soft kiss. Warm arms wrap around Calum’s neck, a familiar weight, as Ashton deepens the kiss.

Calum allows his mouth to be ravished, sinking into the welcome heat building in his gut once more. He’s so hard, so ready to have his release. Growling, he ends the kiss with a yank of Ashton’s hair. “You want to be in charge?” he challenges, watching as the drummer’s eyes widen and he nods. “Alright. Then take control. How do you want me?”

Ashton gulps. This is unfamiliar territory, Calum allowing him to take control. He’s thankful for the small bit of guidance at the end of the younger’s statement. It’s a clear starting point, if nothing else. “C-can we go in the bedroom? I wanna have you on your back,” he requests, cheeks flaming.

Nodding, Calum stands. Unable to resist showing off and making him happy, he hefts Ashton off the sofa and into his arms with ease. He’s been making time for the gym more often lately, and it’s begun to pay off. Ashton’s soft shriek and resulting giggles have his eyes crinkling with his own happiness as he plops the man on the bed. “On my back?” he prompts, settling down with knees bent, waiting.

“Mmhm,” Ashton hums, lost in a brief moment of admiration. Calum makes a hell of a view with the early afternoon sun streaming through the curtains to warm the area of his lower belly, trimmed black pubic hair, and cock. Moving to situate himself between trim thighs, he rubs gently over dark skin. Unwilling to break the softness of the moment just yet, he kisses over the sensitive insides, nuzzling at that juncture where thigh meets groin and sighing contentedly.

Calum doesn’t fight the instinct to close his eyes as Ashton slides down, curls his arms around and guides his hips up to warm, waiting lips. Trembling fingers ghost over his length and he grunts at the first lap over his sensitive pucker.

Ashton takes his time. Calum’s taste is addicting, keeps him pressed close, lips and tongue relentless over the sweet hole. He lavishes attention, kissing, even nipping a little as Calum’s composure gradually disintegrates above him.

“Fucking ge – _oh_ ,” Calum moans, the tip of Ashton’s tongue finally pressing past the ring of muscle. His hips rock down of their own accord. It’s… weird. Good weird, _really_ good. “Fuckin’ – shit,” he pants, thighs tensing against Ashton’s shoulders. Screw the risk, how had he never allowed Ashton to do this before? It wasn’t the first time the blonde had asked. “Oh my _god_.”

Popping up with a wicked gleam in his eye, the elder smirks. “Just Ashton is fine.”

*

“You want _New Adventures of Captain Planet_ or _Boy Meets World_?”

“Eh,” Calum shrugs from his position bent over in front of the refrigerator. “ _Captain Planet_ , I guess.”

“Awe,” Ashton complains from the living area, “fine.”

Calum’s eyes roll hard. “You know I think that show’s dumb. Why would I pick it?”

“It’s not dumb!” Even from another room, the note of scandal in Ashton’s tone is clear. “Mr. Feeney is the greatest, how could you not like this show?”

Picking out several eggs, milk, cheese, and what’s left of a half-used pack of bacon, Calum stands and closes the fridge loudly. “It’s just boring to me,” he calls, sniffing at the bacon. It doesn’t seem to smell, and it’s within the ‘use by’ date on the package front, so Calum guesses it’s probably okay to use. Ashton’s huff floats back to him and something like fondness warms Calum’s chest. He’s so, so fucked. He’s in his kitchen making breakfast for the love of his life right after they’ve gotten each other off.

Given their schedules, it’s about three in the afternoon, so Calum supposes it’s really more like lunch, but it doesn’t really matter. The point is, they have the night off, they’re going to a show, and everything about this day just feels domestic in a way he wishes he could have for the rest of his life. Scenarios where Ashton slips behind him, holds his waist and rests his head on his shoulder as he watches the bassist crack eggs float through Calum’s mind as he works.

The mixture pours easily into one pan and Calum having previously spreas the bacon into the other. The sizzling sound is a pleasant accompaniment to the noise of cartoons emanating from the living room. The two should be done close together and Calum steps away from the eggs for a quick moment to set up the coffee pot, pour grounds and filling the reservoir. With their jobs, ‘mornings’ are around noon or one, and they’ve both always appreciated a good cup of coffee while they wake up. Calum only really drinks it when it’s ‘morning’, but Ashton will drink it all day long.

The lingering feeling of domesticity rears its head once more as he wanders out to place a mug in front of Ashton, a small kiss pressed to the dirty blonde curls. Despite his complaints, he appears thoroughly engrossed in the Planeteers’ latest adventure. “Food will be ready in a few,” he informs, thumb rubbing over the knob of Ashton’s spine. “Did you remember to put lotion on your tattoo? I’ve got some in the bathroom.”

Ashton turns, squinting softly up at him as he takes an overzealous first sip of coffee. “Ah, fuh- my thongue!” He whines, fanning at his mouth while Calum laughs. “Ith noth funneh!”

“Do you need lotion or not?” Calum chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeth,” Ashton pouts.

“It’s the medicine cabinet. You’ll see it – same one I use on mine,” Calum instructs, turning back towards the kitchen. “Hurry up. I think food’s done so you better be back for your plate!” Indeed, the blonde must rush because he’s dutifully back in place when Calum arrives with cheesy eggs and bacon.

On the screen, Dr. Blight uses her new machine to switch bodies with Gaia. It’s an episode the aired last month, but Calum doesn’t mind. He’d liked this one and, as he settles in preparing to watch, Ashton nudges his shoulder murmuring a quick thank you through a mouth full of food. Crap, it’s fucking cute as hell.

Swallowing his own and taking a moment to gulp some coffee, the bassist nods in response. “You ready for tonight? Pearl Jam. Should be fucking rad, right?”

Ashton bounces a little on the cushions beside him. “Mm! I’ve heard they’re great! Oh! Can I borrow one of your flannels? My jeans smell like beer a little but they’re okay, shirt’s gross though. That keg blew all over me yesterday.”

“You never give my shirts back when I lend them to you!” Calum complains. It’s probably his stupid mind playing stupid tricks, but he’d swear Ashton’s kind of blushing.

“I give them back!” Ashton defends heatedly. “Why wouldn’t I? What else would I do with them, eh?”

“Tch,” Calum scoffs. “I don’t know what you do with them, but I know you don’t fuckin’ return them. They’re probably all stashed somewhere so you don’t have to do laundry.”

“I’ll return this one, I swear!”

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Calum stands. “Fine, but seriously. If I don’t get it back, I’m gonna be fuckin’ pissed. I’m running outta shirts, man.” Twisting until his spine returns several sharp cracks, he moans slightly. “Fuck, I guess I better go shower and shit. I smell disgusting. Do the dishes and you can go after me.”

As he stalks away, Ashton frowns, glaring at his palms wrapped around his coffee mug. The bassist is right. He has Calum’s shirts, a small collection of them. They’re washed, he just… Can’t quite bring himself to let them go. They smell like Calum and Ashton absolutely refuses to think about why that makes him reluctant to return them. Or why he occasionally sleeps in them. Absolutely, definitely not going to let himself think about that time he wore one while jerking off, collar pulled up around his mouth and nose to inhale the sharp scent of Calum’s cologne. _Fuck_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunge music, sex, drugs, and little inner turmoil. 
> 
> AKA The chapter where they go to a show, get a little (lot) high, and Ashton's a fucking mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a playlist, full of awesome 90's grunge, located here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0339sLJKto1rVxFHs1SvUt?si=abGs3dBiRM2jC2iHrfhwGQ

Pearl Jam lives up to the hype that’s followed their live performances. Not that Calum expects any differently. He loves their music from the moment he first listens to _Ten_ , and the chance to see them do a warm up show before starting the Vs. Tour? Fuckin’ hell. There’s no way he and Ash can afford to go to the actual tour date, so hitting the warm up at Off Ramp Café is a god-send. It’s just them, no opening act and Calum loves it, loves the chance to experience the _Vs._ album released only six days earlier. He’s had it jammed in his Diskman non-stop since he bought it, it’s brilliant.

Ashton practically vibrates out of his skin when they play “State of Love and Trust,” and Calum spends the entire song watching the slew of emotions playing over his face. _So fuckin’ pretty_ , he thinks as the crowd jostles around them and the open flannel slips a bit, showing the cap of the older man’s shoulder and the tank top he’s wearing under. They’re both sweating, the venue sweltering with the bodies pressed tight and energy they expend. Ashton’s skin glows in the low light, ethereal, and Calum’s tongue glides hungrily over his lips as he looks.

Eventually, as if Calum’s eyes add an extra layer of heat he can’t ignore, Ashton’s gaze swivels to meet them. Smile seemingly lit from some sort of internal flame, he beams. It nearly knocks the breath out of Calum’s chest. He’s so in love with that fire, the way it lights Ashton up from the inside out and leaks into everything he does, so in love it hurts. It leaves him with the odd and awful sensation of a chest full and yet so very empty all the same. In another universe, maybe they’re meant for each other. In this one, Calum constantly has to remind himself Ashton’s something he’s only allowed to borrow.

Despite the way his heart sinks, he’s able to face forward and lose himself in the music once more. This time, it lasts up until the end. He loses himself entirely, finding the notes of bass dancing symbiotically around the melody and holds on until the last echo of it fades. That’s his instrument, and Calum’s always loved the way the sound roots in his chest and thumps like a second heartbeat.

They file out, hands stuffed deep in jacket pockets and shivering hard as sweat meets cool air and a light drizzle. Calum lights a smoke and inhales, allowing it to dangle from his lower lip as he kicks a pebble at Ashton’s shoe. “Y’wanna smoke?”

Ashton eyes him, a secretive little quirk to his lips. They both know Calum doesn’t mean the cigarettes they both indulge in far too regularly. “Mine,” he dips his chin indicating the direction of his apartment. “C’mon, I’ll roll us a couple.”

*

Calum feels pleasantly floaty. Well, his head does. The rest of his body feels much like it’s been infused with quick dry cement. _Fuck_ , he thinks, _so fuckin high_. Ashton’s lips wrap lazily, inhaling. Calum watches the cherry flare and blinks dazedly. “Shotgun?” he asks, warm smoky husk to his tone.

Giving a small shrug, Ashton half turns and leans into Calum’s space. Digging deep, he finds the will and coordination to meet him half way, pressing together, ready for the smoke that pushes past his lips. Ashton coughs as they part and Calum luxuriates in his exhale, body readily sinking back into the sofa to stretch like a content house cat.

Getting high always leaves Calum a little more open, more willing to expose the metaphorical softness of his belly. It’s the part of himself he usually protects at all cost, hissing should the other male venture too close. In times like this, he’s needier, more overtly greedy and demanding of Ashton’s attention and affections. He knows this. And yet, when they smoke together, Ashton seems more open, too, allowing and even sometimes encouraging Calum’s behavior. It’s the only time he can bring himself to express some of what he really feels, the only time he feels safe cracking the lid of that box.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, pushing in close, overwhelming Ashton’s personal space to weld himself tightly to the older man’s side. Calum’s face presses eagerly into the juncture of neck and shoulder. Small curls tickle him and he can smell the sweat lingering from the show and reappearing now in the slightly too warm space of home. Ashton’s arm wriggles to rest heavily around his waist. Fiery fingers push up under his shirt and Calum’s abs tense a little as they stroke the skin of his stomach. “Love you,” he sighs happily into the small curve. It’s a soft sigh, and he’s not even sure Ashton’s heard it. Part of him kind of hopes he hasn’t.

Silence stretches out, but the fingers exploring his skin don’t stop. They’re beginning to work slightly upwards, more towards his chest, and Calum shudders. Worry doesn’t coat his throat as it normally would; increased sensitivity is another usual side effect of his high. He almost misses the way Ashton tucks into his fluffy hair and murmurs a soft response, so lost in the pleasure of being touched. Still, just enough of him is aware to parse out the words that make up the tepid breath: “I don’t know what to do.”

Calum’s brows furrow. “What?” he slurs, lips brushing the column of Ashton’s neck.

Ashton only shakes his head. Calum knows this because soft tendrils brush his face teasingly with the motion. They’ll mean more when he’s sobered, the words. He'll understand that maybe he's not alone, that Ashton's a little more open beneath the alcohol and weed, too. But right now, he just allows them to fall away, as Ashton seems to hope he will.

A devilish touch brushes his perked nipple and Calum groans, shifting enough to force them horizontal and straddle Ashton’s thigh, rocking there for a moment. “ _Unh, fuck,_ ” he whines, taking greedy open-mouthed breaths of Ashton’s scent and licking over the salty skin so close to his lips. “Makin’ me hard,” he rasps, like Ashton isn’t already aware of exactly what he’s doing.

Sure enough, a sharp inhale and a choked off noise follow his announcement and a fingernail scratches lightly over his areola. Ashton knows what his actions will bring and Calum’s dick swells slowly, filling out in his black jeans. “Please, Ash,” he moans quietly. 

“Yeah,” Ashton breathes, voice shaky and thick, “I’ve got you. Gonna make you feel good, promise.”

Happily melting into the other man, Calum closes his eyes and allows sensation to carry him away. With firm muscle bracketed in his open legs, his hips rock of their own accord as he mindlessly pursues the teasing touches granted to his torso. Small noises echo from him regularly. If he had the presence of mind to care, he’d probably be mortified. As it is, he’s pleasantly heavy, his heart’s pleasantly numb, and he’s very fond of the way Ashton seems to be nosing and sniffing at what parts of his hair and neck he can reach. Tipping his head to the side, he allows more room for his friend’s antics, humming gently.

With his mind so fuzzy, Calum’s not entirely sure how many minutes have passed when Ashton’s fingers finally leave his nipples to travel south. They urge him to roll more prominently onto his side, skittering over his ribs and further, to undo the button of his jeans. “Mm, _yeah_ ,” Calum hums again, lifting his hips helpfully. “Yeah,” he sighs again as his boxers follow and his hard dick twitches where it rests against his hip.

Ashton huffs, nibbles at the delicate skin over his pulse point and rolls his balls gently, thumbing over the seam in a way that has Calum’s thighs shaking and desperate to spread wider, give Ashton more room. Teeth cradling his adam’s apple, Ashton bites and Calum keens.

“That’s right,” Ashton husks. “Doing so well, Cal. You’ll let me do whatever I want, won’t you? You’re so fucked out. Know you love it, though, don’t you.” The finishing comment is more a statement of fact than a question.

Regardless, Calum moans out an affirmative, desperate for the warm palm to wrap around his aching erection instead. He- he’d let Ashton do almost anything. Anything but fuck him. How Ashton’s managing to hold himself together is beyond his brain. Heavy gaze drifting down, he can see the other male’s not unaffected, blue jeans tented over the swell of him. “Ungh,” he groans, eloquently.

Normally, he’s in a rush, always sprinting to the finish line rather than enjoying the slower jog of dragging it out and teasing himself. When Ashton’s in control, he doesn’t get to choose and, for once, he doesn’t feel impatient at the tantalizing touches designed to build him up.

A palm encircles him and a forceful shiver races through him and his hips buck into Ashton’s hands. He _wants_. Wants Ashton to stroke firm, squeeze a little at the tip, wants him to tease at his leaking slit until he screams. Instead, the hand vanishes almost as quickly as it’d arrived, moving to tug and manhandle his hips and thighs until he finds himself resting securely against Ashton’s chest. “Wanna come,” he whines pathetically, eyes closed and brow furrowed. He hasn’t moved to touch himself and he won’t. The energy to do so just doesn’t exist and he knows it would upset his partner.

“I know,” Ashton murmurs, breath whispering against his skin. Fisting him once more, he squeezes gently and begins to stroke, palming at the younger man’s pecs under his shirt once more.

Calum’s too far gone – too high, too dissolved in pleasure to register the high pitch of the noises escaping him. These are the noises he does his best to hide, embarrassed of what they mean. “Love,” he gasps, hips rutting slowly upwards with tiny, exhausted rolls, “love – please.”

Teeth drag over his jawline and Calum feels the damp flick of tongue. “I know,” Ashton responds once again, placating. His movements speed up and a thumb swipes over Calum’s head.

His entire body feels alight with fire racing to mix with the cement weighting him down. Mouth gone dry, he pants. It’s hot, the apartment feels heavy with wet heat. Sweat covers him, sticking his shirt over his torso, rolling down his face. Calum shudders again. Ashton’s going faster now, an easy finger dipping to rub dry over his hole, sending sparks through him.

When the tip breaches him, Calum comes, wet gasps and whines echoing around the small space. Ashton strokes him through it until Calum grips his wrist, halting the movement, but not pulling it away. “You’re m’ soulma’,” he slurs, promptly passing out. Distantly, before the black settles, he hears a gasp and Ashton’s small whimper.

*

Does it – ?

Does he say something? _Should_ he say something?

Like what? _‘Hey, sorry I got fucked up on beer and weed and professed my love. Again. And called you my soulmate. Again.’_

Yeah, no, Calum’s definitely not doing that. He means every word but regrets them each time they escape, always under these kinds of circumstances. Sober Calum is fucking smart enough to keep that shit locked down tight.

Something brushes his lower back and he yelps, Ashton’s gruff and scratchy morning chuckle answering as the older man slides behind him to fill a glass of water at the sink. Calum’s braced himself, leant over the counter and questioning his circumstances with hunched shoulders. He hadn’t noticed Ashton’s approach.

“Make me coffee,” Ashton nudges his calf with a toe.

Calum sighs, turning and slumping with his back against the counter to face the other man. “Make your own and make me some too. This is your shithole place and I’m the guest.”

Pouting, Ashton again lifts his foot, now nudging at Calum’s shin from his own place slouched against the stove. “No. You owe me. You passed out on top of me after you came and I didn’t wanna wake you! You came and went dead asleep.”

Calum’s cheeks instantly flame red and he digs palms into his eye sockets to disperse the pressure building up that. God, that’s fucking mortifying. “Fuck, man. Should’ve woke my ass up anyway and told me to help or get the fuck off.” 

Ashton shrugs, smirking and poking Calum’s shin again. This time, he doesn’t stop until Calum caves, groaning, and moves to make the coffee.

Apparently, they’re on the same page, the one where they ignore the fuck out of Calum’s inebriated emotional vomit and pretend like it never happened.

Except for the weird fond thing Ashton’s heart does as it flops around his chest watching the man he loves fitting so domestically into his life.

Pouring the grounds swiftly into the filter, enough to make it strong like Ashton likes it, Calum turns. “Start some bacon and I’ll blow you. Bet I can get you off before it’s done.”

*

For a Monday, it’s not so bad. Ashton’s got the day off, but Calum works. There’s only, like, six days until Halloween and they need costumes. Well, he needs a costume and he refuses to dress up alone. That means he’s getting a costume for Calum, too, whether he wants to dress up or not.

Pushing through various hangers of costumes, he bites his lip trying to decide. Ultimately, he’s been pushing through this same rack for nearly twenty minutes, head full of thoughts he doesn’t really want to address but can no longer avoid.

Biting his lip, he pulls out a vampire costume and stares sightlessly at it. Halloween’s a Sunday. They’ll be playing a small set after they get off day shift together. More often than not, they end up crashing in the same apartment, no real preference for whose. Somehow, it’s become their normal. Waking up together and either figuring out a plan if it’s a day off, or separating for whatever obligations they have.

Fuck. They usually end up crashing at the same apartment even when they don’t work the same shift or play a show. He should just…

He should just what? Suggest they move in together? It’d save money for both of them. Not to mention the convenience with splitting chores like cleaning and shopping. And the sex. Like – like if they lived together it would just be easier without having to work out who’s going where or if there’s time considering travel and early opening shifts. It wouldn’t have to change anything, right? They’re not dating, it’s not like that. They’d just be roommates who have sex. Totally normal.

It’s so not normal, but he wants it. Can see himself presenting the key to Calum and since when did his subconscious decide it’d be Calum moving into _his_ space? Ashton’s breathing is going wonky again, things swirling in his head that he _promised_ himself never would. He’s waiting for his soulmate, so why the _fuck_ can’t he get through a single interaction without feeling his heart stutter at how much he lo-. Yeah, _no._ He’s totally fucked. He cannot feel these things for Calum. He can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to his soulmate.

Calum’s voice echoes in his head stubbornly though. _‘You’re my soulmate.’_

God, why couldn’t that be true? It would be so much easier if they were soulmates, he thinks, slamming two costumes down on the checkout counter. He’d be allowed to fucking feel this. It would be okay if they were soulmates. It’d really be normal, then.

Ashton just needs to get himself under control. Asking Calum to move in is – it still makes sense, even with all the things he’s adamantly avoiding. He’s going to do it. Maybe Halloween, after the show. Just suggest it as nonchalant as it should be – ‘why not? Just dudes rooming together to make shit easy and save money.’ Of the two of them, Ashton’s got the monopoly on emotions and empathy. Calum’s always been pretty practical. He’ll see the offer for – for what he says it is, not what Ashton tells himself it really _isn’t_. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”  
> A flush creeps up Ashton’s neck as Calum’s eyes pierce angrily into him.  
> “No?” he tries pathetically. 
> 
> AKA Halloween, new friends, and grand gestures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a playlist, full of awesome 90's grunge, located here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0339sLJKto1rVxFHs1SvUt?si=abGs3dBiRM2jC2iHrfhwGQ

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

A flush creeps up Ashton’s neck as Calum’s eyes pierce angrily into him.

“No?” he tries pathetically.

He’s already in his vampire getup, complete with dark eye makeup and fake bloodstains. It’s not a bad look, really, and Calum’s fucking furious because “you get yourself that, _that_ –” he gestures at the entirety of Ashton’s outfit, “and you get me fuckin’ _Barney_?” he growls with a very clear desire to murder the love of his life. “What the fuck.”

A little noise that sounds like ‘meep’ escapes the drummer as he clutches the purple costume like a shield. “It was last minute! They didn’t have much left!”

“And you’re telling me the only thing you could find in my size was Barney?” Calum’s expression is thunderous.

“I –” Ashton swallows audibly. “I thought it’d be cute!”

Some of Calum’s anger fades but the frown stays firmly in place, even as he feels a heat prickling at his own cheeks. “Fine,” he concedes, grumpily yanking the hanger from Ashton’s hands. “I’ll fuckin’ wear it but only because I don’t have any other stupid options thanks to you.” _Not because I love you and you said I’d be cute_.

And that’s how Calum finds himself behind the bar, continually knocking things over and bumping into Ashton while dressed as Barney the gigantic, purple fucking dinosaur. He nearly has an aneurism when Gary sarcastically slurs the theme song at him. Ashton has the pull him away and force him to calm down. On top of that, the soulmates Calum recognizes from months ago slump in again. Calum’s still not in the mood and he leaves Ashton to deal with them, listening as they laugh and joke.

If nothing else, at least they have the day shift. They’ll be playing a quick set later before all the real Halloween fun begins, and that’s the thought that’ll get him through the most annoying shift of his life so far. Spoiler: Gary is not the only one to sing to him. 

Eventually, Ashton gestures him over and introduces him to “Michael,” with bright, shaggy hair and sleepy eyes, and “Luke” with the megawatt smile and curls so pretty Calum kind of wants to touch. It only pisses him off more that he actually likes the pair the longer he stands around talking to them. They’re entertaining. Michael with his sarcasm and Luke with his corny jokes. Calum could easily see the four of them as friends despite the bit of age difference. Luke’s obviously forgotten he showed an ID with a different name, even if it hadn’t been abundantly clear he was underage anyway. No one here really cares though. He’s got the ID, that’s all that matters.

“Why are you dressed like Barney,” Michael asks bluntly, knocking the cubes of ice around in his whiskey.

Slurping loudly at his Mai Tai, Luke blinks owlishly and grins. “I like it.”

“That idiot picked it,” Calum sighs gesturing over his shoulder with a thumb at Ashton. “He decided he could be a hot vampire and I could be a fat, purple dipshit.”

Luke makes a soft cooing noise. “Cute! Are you together, then?”

Feeling his face heat slowly under their combined curious gazes, Calum glances to the side, jaw working harshly. “Not exactly.”

“’Not exactly’ meaning you just fuck?” Michael slides his empty glass forward for a refill as his soulmate chirps and smacks his shoulder for being so invasive and rude.

Somehow, Calum finds the bluntness kind of eases some of his tension. “Yeah, something like that.” Adding ice and pouring another solid three count to Michael’s glass, he frowns and drags a finger through the ring of water leftover on the bar top. “He, uh.” Biting his lip, Calum averts his gaze yet again. He doesn’t want to offend them, but they’re just a reminder of how painful this shit with Ashton is. “He doesn’t want t-the rest. He’s kinda hung up on finding his soulmate, and that’s apparently not me, so…” Calum gestures at his lightless body, trailing off with a shrug. Why he’s even telling two strangers this, he can’t begin to explain. “I, uh –” clearing his throat, he jerks a thumb over his shoulder and turns tail without waiting for a response, suddenly feeling as if he’s about to fall apart as he pushes into the back room.

Calum slumps against a wall, bent over with hands resting on his knees, taking deep breaths with the sparkle of Michael and Luke’s lights ingrained on the insides of his eyelids.

What he doesn’t see is the way Ashton’s brow furrows as he watches him hightail it. Or the way Ashton saunters over to question the soulmates on just why. What he _really_ misses is the entire mess Ashton becomes when Michael starts quizzing him like he doesn’t believe in boundaries. And of course, the way Luke bites at the nail of his thumb as he watches Ashton with a look of consideration when he cracks and spills everything over the bar top like a bad beer.

The back room is fully and completely reorganized when Calum eventually emerges. Ashton’s had no problem catering to the six people lining the bar and pool table in the back. In fact, he seems to have settled in with Michael and Luke, little giggles trailing through the air as Calum watches them sadly, shaking his head minutely when Michael catches his eyes and hikes a brow in question.

*

Playing their set for the twenty or so people in the bar early enough lifts his spirits considerably. They have a friend of theirs filling in on guitar, so it’s mostly covers tonight but it’s still a good time. Calum never gets tired of the high he gets from performing for a room of people. He knows Ashton doesn’t either. Past the crowd, he can see Michael and Luke still at the bar, bouncing and cheering as they play. It only makes him smirk and go harder.

The short set flies by and before he knows it, Calum finds Ashton and himself stumbling around, winding cords, packing up their equipment. He has to pause every few moments to push back sweaty curls when they inevitably flop into his face again, but he can’t help grinning and joking around. Laughing loudly, he thwacks Ashton with his purple dinosaur tail, face crinkling into an uncontrollable smile when he stumbles and swears.

“You should move in with me when your lease is up,” Ashton says.

Calum freezes faster than rain in Alaska during winter as the words tumble out and sink in.

“We should be roommates,” Ashton gestures between them. “Save money on rent and everything else. Plus, we work together,” he finishes lamely. 

“Uh,” he swallows, tongue feeling thick and swollen. It should be a no-brainer. It’s obviously convenient for both of them, there’s literally no real reason to say no besides the fact that _he’s in love with Ashton_. “Uh, are you sure?” he hedges softly, the amp he’d been messing with forgotten.

Ashton gives a firm little nod and for some stupid reason, Calum blushes.

“What about…” he trails off, trying desperately to find a way of saying it without actually having to let the words out of his mouth; this stupid, great ball of love he has.

It’s Ashton’s turn to blush now. “It’s up to you, really. I don’t want to pressure you, I just thought – but you know that doesn’t bother me, Cal. I just don’t want you to say yes if it’s gonna put you in a bad spot.”

Calum nods, jaw clenching. “Just – just give me some time to think about it.” As dumb and masochistic as he is, he already knows he’s going to say yes. No matter how much it hurts, it’s a price he’s willing to pay for the opportunity to have the illusion of domesticity with Ashton. Just knowing it’s within his grasp has him craving it.

They go home separately that night.

*

Calum broods.

The whole moving in with Ashton thing has his stomach in knots every time he considers it. It just wouldn’t be – it would probably actually kill him. To be that close, every day. To wake up and share a home with the man he loves but know he still can’t have him.

If he moves in, it’ll only be because they’re together.

Calum’s mind is made up as December rolls around and they have their first bout with sleet. His lease is up at the end of January. He’s going to give it one more shot, one more chance for Ashton to take him as he is. If it doesn’t work, then… Then it’ll be time to call off their arrangement, time to back off and try to let himself accept and heal.

*

Ashton’s brow wrinkles as Calum scrutinizes him. “Well what do you think she’d want?” he asks, taking pity on the older man. Watching him awkwardly pace the pink isles of the toy section is cute, but hard to enjoy when he can tell Ashton’s on the verge of panicking.

“I don’t know. I haven’t even seen them in ages!”

Calum smiles softly. One of the downsides of moving so far from home and being poor – this will be probably the third year running they’ve spent Christmas away from their families. Still, Ashton’s always determined to send good presents for Harry and Lauren, his siblings.

“What about this,” he holds up a toy Calum vaguely remembers seeing a commercial for.

“A Skip-It?” Sucking on his bottom lip, he considers. “Yeah, I don’t know why not. Seems pretty cool.”

Still looking a little nervous, Ashton gives a jerky nod and adds it to their cart. It also has his groceries and Harry’s present, a new PC game called Myst.

“It’ll be fine,” Calum sighs softly as they carry everything out. “They’ll love the gifts, Ash. They always do.”

Ashton nods again, looking sad. “I miss them.”

“I know.” He has to shake himself a bit to come out of his memories. Mali, his own sister, is on another continent, too. Being so far away from his family really blows sometimes. He’d give anything for one of her hugs when he’s feeling down, but he hasn’t had one of those in years.

*

Christmas is a quiet affair for them.

A few bottles of wine, a couple boxes of mac and cheese, and some movies.

Calum’s had more than his fair share of the wine while Ashton seems to be more focused on the weed.

“Ash?” he murmurs softly, staring up from his place with his head in Ashton’s lap, reclined on the sofa.

“Mm?” Ashton hums.

“Do you…” Traitorous tears well slightly, not enough to fall. “If we _were_ soulmates, would you be disappointed?”

Calum wishes he could know why he does it. Every time they’re together like this, the emotions just surge up and he can’t choke them back down. He ends up ruining things, words tripping over themselves to get out and embarrass him. Warm fingers land in his hair and Calum jumps a little, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

“Of course not,” Ashton’s whisper is gentle, a soothing balm caressing his fried nerves. “Of course, I wouldn’t, Cal. I’d be so happy. If things were different…” A deep inhale, his shirt rubbing over Calum’s cheek. “I _do_ love you. I just… I know there’s someone out there _made_ for me. My literal other half. I don’t know what to do with all of this, Cal. I want you but what happens if I do eventually find my soulmate, huh? What happens then? It’s just… Don’t think this is about you. It’s not.” His warm embrace coaxes Calum in, cuddling him close and rubbing soothingly over his spine. 

Calum sighs, pressing his face more firmly against Ashton’s chest. He smells like smoke and liquor. It’s intoxicating to the point that he’s not sure he needed that last half bottle of wine. “’M sorry,” he moans, muffled against Ashton’s shirt.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Cal,” Ashton murmurs. “I should be. This wouldn’t be so hard if I weren’t a coward.”

A few soft drops pat down against his shirt and Calum suddenly realizes Ashton’s crying. Stilling against him, Calum hums softly. More than anything, he wants Ashton to keep talking, wants this insight into the older man’s head. Just, just to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Calum’s desperate for it.

Ashton’s fingers move to tangle in dark curls, scratching lightly at Calum’s scalp. “I know what I want,” he starts, voice barely above a whisper, thick with the tears. “I know I want you. I’ve just… spent so long dreaming of a soulmate. Maybe it’s stupid, but I grew up with this fantasy of finding them and it just being… _perfect_. This thing with you – it’s fucking scary, alright? You’re not my soulmate, but I want you to be. I think I… I love you, too, but I’m scared of what’ll happen. What if I say yes, and then I meet them? What if we fall apart because we’re not meant to be? I don’t… I – ” he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

Calum blinks hard, instinctively holding tighter to Ashton, as if afraid he’s going to cut and run. “We wouldn’t fall apart. I – I love you, you know that. I w-want you to be happy, and I think I could do that. If you meet them someday, I’ll let you go. I’ll be graceful about it, I swear, just…” He trails off, unsure how to finish the statement, if he even can.

All in all, it’s a depressing fuckin Christmas, but it’s progress. It’s something. It’s – Ashton loves him back.

Calum starts planning the next day. He’s nearly always had this idea living inside him of the grand gesture he’d make for the person he loves. Now’s the time to do it. This is going to be their time, he knows it. Missing this opportunity… He can’t. It’s alive under his skin, this knowledge that if he doesn’t do this now, Ashton will close back up, will lose his confidence in the gamble Calum’s asking him to take.

The days leading up to New Year’s Eve all seem to jumble together and move at a pace much faster than Calum’s comfortable with. He’d give anything to slow them down, to have more time to plan and make sure he’s doing things right.

By far, the hardest sell is getting the night off from The Ballard. If it weren’t for the fact that they’ve been steady employees for the past four years, he knows he’d have been shoved right back out of the management office with a laugh. Thankfully, the worst he has to go through, is clumsily explaining that he’s putting on a surprise for Ashton. Like management doesn’t already know they’re together. Calum’s never been more embarrassed in his life.

When the night comes, Calum really does have a job of convincing Ashton to stay in and let Calum come over to watch the ball drop on his shitty TV. A night off on a major holiday is rare, and Ashton’s still kind of pissed that they’re missing out on the tips tonight, but Calum didn’t really tell him he’d _asked_ for this.

Instead, he focuses on what he’s set out to accomplish here. He orders from Ashton’s favorite pizza place, he’s got champagne he snuck in chilling in the fridge for what will hopefully be a celebration afterwards, and everything else is in the backpack leant up against the door. At least that part of the plan had been slightly cheaper, since he’d hit an after Christmas sale.

Ashton settles down a bit when the pizza arrives, and they sit munching with the TV on mute and some music playing in the background. Mostly, they’ve been cuddled up on the sofa, Calum against Ashton’s side and the older man graciously not mentioning the way Calum’s sweating more than usual. He’s nervous as fuck for how this is going to play out.

The closer they get to midnight, the more fidgety Calum becomes. As with the days leading up, time seems to fly by. It seems to be passing him in leaps and bounds. One moment, he’s knocking on Ashton’s door, the next he’s sitting down with beer and pizza, and before he knows it, Ashton’s flipping over to ABC and preparing for the ball drop in the next five minutes.

With three minutes to go, Calum turns to him. “I need you to trust me, okay?”

Ashton frowns, nods, and Calum takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Stand up, hold your arms out and close your eyes. You gotta keep them closed until I say. Promise?”

Expression more than a little confused, Ashton stands. “What’s this all about, Cal?”

Calum’s panicking, the clock is counting down and he just needs Ashton to stop asking questions and _listen_. “Just do it! Please! You said you’d trust me.”

Huffing a little, Ashton closes his eyes and holds his arms out. Muttering a quiet prayer of thanks, Calum darts over to his pack, pulling out the necessary items and hauling them over to the sofa where Ashton stands. They land with a flump as he tosses them down and goes to work. It takes longer than he’d like, draping, wrapping and adjusting everything until he’s got them both fully covered. Hustling back to the wall by the door he finishes up and hits the lights, sprinting back to Ashton’s side as the countdown hits the ten second mark, voices ringing out from the television.

Calum takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking and he’s pretty sure nervous tears are going to start falling any moment. As soon as midnight hits, he presses close, kissing Ashton with everything he has. All his hopes and fears, all his love, pours through in this single moment until he steps back.

And he can see it when Ashton’s eyes flicker open – the exact moment that he realizes Calum has wrapped them both in lights. They illuminate the space of Ashton’s shitty apartment, sparkling.

Ashton’s practically sobbing as he hurtles into Calum’s space, tangling them together and kissing him again. It’s wet and messy and, for Calum, it feels like coming home.

Breaking for air, Calum rests their foreheads together. “The universe fucked up, okay? There’s no way we’re not soulmates. I’ve only ever wanted you. I moved across the fucking world with you, I’d do anything to make you happy, Ash. I love you so fucking much.”

Hiccupping, Ashton nods fiercely. “I love you, too,” he gasps. “Fuck – I. I’m sorry I made it so hard for you, Cal. I’m so sorry.”

Calum’s smile rivals the lights in the way it blinds. “Worth every second,” he whispers. “Please just say you’ll be mine.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Ashton chuckles wetly, “yeah.”

“I brought champagne,” Calum can’t help his giddy jitters, hands shaking with the pure adrenaline and emotion of the moment. “We should celebrate. I – I have to put in my 30 Day Notice if I’m moving in, don’t I?”

It seems like Ashton’s just as much a mess as he is, crying even harder and pulling Calum back in close to cling to him. “Yeah,” he gasps, “yeah, you’re moving in. My fucking boyfriend now.”

“The best boyfriend you’ll ever have.”

“Yeah.” Ashton’s eyes open, Calum’s lights reflecting in the unshed tears there. His fingers tangle in the cord of the cheap, off brand white Christmas lights wrapping them both as he appears to contemplate them. “My soulmate,” he finally whispers. “Guess I found you after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you've made it though, I just want to say thank you!
> 
> I'd love to hear your final thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Please kudos/comment!  
> I'd love to hear favorite parts, suggestions for next chapters, or anything at all!  
> Thank you!


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